Halloween Sky

The sky looked spooky this morning. I like it. It's perfect for Halloween morning.

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My New Assistant Hates Me. With A Passion.

It's been two weeks since my new iPhone arrived via UPS. For the most part, I adore this new phone. All that advanced technology crammed into one spiffy looking package just makes my heart sing. I tell you, she's amazing.

I love the voice recognition software that's built into the texter, meaning I can chat away and my phone will convert whatever I say into a typed format and text it to which ever of my friends is currently the luckiest duck. Of course, voice recognition software is what gave one of my friend herpes this summer, so I do have to be careful. Potential STD aside, I love the voice recognition stuff.

Each iPhone comes with a personal assistant (fancy that!). Her name is Siri. My husband made an instant connection with his assistant that I thought only occurred in romance novels. He thinks she's amazing and she cannot help him call someone or find someone on his contact list fast enough. They all but ogle each other with big doe eyes.

In short: he hearts her.

He asks her questions about the weather and she tells him the five day forecast. He asks me for a weather update and I glance out the window and say 'Dude. It's dark out there and I can't tell what the weather is if it's dark outside.'

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More Weird and Tacky Photo Edits

I couldn't help myself. I messed around with some photo editing software again.

But look: I'm Batgirl. I can do anything.

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I Had Lunch With Tata Today ...

… and all was well until I hit road construction traffic on my way home.

I'm fine with road construction. Usually.

I'm fine with waiting my turn in line while traffic in the opposite direction moves. Usually.

I'm fine with just sittin' back, relaxin', singing' along with Thriller on the radio. Usually.

But today, after twenty-four minutes, my Honda and I had moved a grand total of thirty feet. Twenty-four minutes, people.  Twenty. Four. Minutes. To move thirty feet. That's an entire episode on Diff'rent Strokes for crying out loud. Minus commercials of course.

The worst part wasn't sitting in traffic or the jerky people behind me honking their horns. No. It was the fact that whilst at lunch with Tata I drank a thirty-two ounce iced tea. Then refilled my cup. Then refilled it for a third time.

The average human bladder is designed to hold about seventeen to eighteen ounces. See where this is going?

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The Odd Fellows

The 'Odd Fellows' cemetery. What, pray tell, does this mean?

Do you have to be odd to get in? In that case the city planners had better pony up to buy more acreage because hello? Look around. We're all odd.

Is it only for fellows? Like a gentlemen's club of final resting places? Where do the odd ladies rest eternally? I looked around the neighboring blocks and never found the 'Odd Ladies' or the 'Married to an Odd Fellow' cemeteries.
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The Bacon Pancake Cupcake

Last week my friend, Tata, called me. You remember Tata, right? She discovered a bakery in town with the most amazing new flavor of cupcakes: the Bacon Pancake Cupcake.

*insert the sounds of angels singing

That's right. I said the Bacon Pancake Cupcake. You had me at bacon. Only part of the pig I enjoy. Obviously, a small road trip to the other side of town was now in order.

Here is the Bacon Pancake in it's natural habitat in the bakery's display case. Notice the heavenly light shining down upon the cupcakes. Some people might argue that it's the light from the display case, but those people are wrong. 

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Photo Edits That Amuse Me

It is cold at my house. Rainy, too. Cold and rainy are not a motivating combo for me. Cold and rainy weather makes me want to sit on my couch, wrapped in my snowman print, down filled blanket and watch informative science shows on the international space station. Mainly, reruns of The Big Bang Theory on TBS.

So far, I've successfully resisted the urge to get bundled up on my couch and learn via Howard Wolowitz how to fix a toilet in space. My motivation to be productive is still at large somewhere; however, I've found something particularly awesome that I'd like to share with you.

It's a photo editing website that let's you do pretty sweet stuff to photos like add filters, text, or just about anything.

Oh yes, I have examples.

Before we get started, remember this photo of me?

Now, let's play.

Same photo, but I added glasses. Don't you think they make me look smarter? Yeah, I think so, too.

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My 200th-ish Post

I hit a milestone last week - my 200th blog post! Yay! I was going to make a big deal out of it, a huge celebration really, complete with cake, a confetti cannon, and dancing men for all my followers.

But I forgot.

Boo.

I guess last week I was too excited to bring you my animal butts extravaganza post. Then I got wrapped up in finding a non-gag reflex inducing photo of myself. Next thing you know, I'm in the car snapping photos of covered bridges, learning all I need to know about arches, and capturing Carl the orb on film. And I think we all agree that my conversation with my Grandmother about her marrying Don Rickles just couldn't wait another day and had to be shared.

Wait. Where was I going with this post again? Oh yes. The celebration of my 206th blog post.
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A Phone Conversation With My Grandmother

My Grandmother called me on Saturday. Talking to her on the phone is always a trip. She wanted me to know that she read my blog post about her and that she approved of it.

Here is a snippet of our conversation.

Grandmother: I read your newspaper article about me. I didn't know you were a reporter.

Me: I'm not a reporter. I wrote a blog post about you. Anyone can have a blog.

Grandmother: Well, you missed your calling. You should have been a reporter.

Me: Nah. Reporters are restricted to facts. I like bending the facts to amuse myself.

Grandmother: That is true. You do that. I thought the article was hilarious. I laughed and cackled all the way through it. I didn't like my photo though.

Me: Thanks! Why didn't you like the photo? I think it's fabulous.

Grandmother: It is a fabulous photo. Of the zucchini. Not of me.

Me: I disagree. I think it's a great picture of you. Why don't you like it?

Grandmother: It shows a lot of wrinkles. I don't think I have that many wrinkles. Hey, I stopped by my fiancé's office on Wednesday.

Me (completely and utterly shocked): What?! You have a fiancé?! You're engaged?!

Grandmother (calmly): Yeah. Don Rickles is my fiancé. You knew that.
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99% Sure This Is a Ghost Photo

When I was around ten, I had a hot pink Huffy girls dirt bike. She was a real beaut. I put a card in the spokes to make her sound cool, too. She really walked the fine line between being quite lovely and completely bad ass.

Be jealous.

Scooby Doo pretty much ruled my world then and I used to cruise around my neighborhood on my quite lovely bad ass bike looking for mysteries to solve. Daily. I was all about looking for suspicious activity or anything that was slightly askew so I could beat the local authorities on busting whatever crime ring was hiding in my 'hood. What I wouldn't have given to have an old man shake his fist at me and say, 'I would have gotten away with it, too, if it hadn't of been for that meddling kid.' I never got to be a meddling kid, but all of my training in being on the lookout for something out of the ordinary came in handy last night.

After reviewing my 247 covered bridge photos, I noticed something … peculiar in one photo. Being a total sucker for a good Scooby Doo-esque mystery, I decided to do a little research into this peculiaraity. Sadly, my quite lovely bad ass Huffy/Mystery Machine was sold in a garage sale twenty-five years ago, so my research was limited to Google.

But first. Notice anything … peculiar about this photo?
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Channeling Creedence Clearwater Revival

Last night I was minding my own business while driving home from my oldest daughter's swim practice. I wasn't bothering anybody, I swear. Until Adele's 'Someone Like You' came on the radio. Being a big fan of that song, I just had to spring into action and start wailing along with reckless abandon. That song is so infectious (or maybe it was my fabulous singing voice), that my child felt compelled to join in the impromptu sing-a-long. There we were: windows down, breeze in our hair, belting it out at top volume.

It was a moment.

When we pulled into our driveway, I noticed the moon. It's not everyday you are treated to a full moon.

Like the closet karaoke queen that I am, I seamlessly switched from Adele to Creedence Clearwater Revival. Gone was 'Someone Like You'. In was 'Bad Moon Rising'. I channeled John Fogerty like nobody's business.
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My Own Personal Covered Bridge Festival

The weather here in the Midwest has been unbelievably spectacular this past week. Phenomenal, really. Sunny and 80 degrees. And the leaves on the trees have started to turn colors. It's autumnal perfection, people. So perfect that yesterday, my husband and I drove around Indiana looking at covered bridges.

Wait … covered what?

Covered bridges. As in bridges with sides and roofs. Indiana is known for basketball, John Mellancamp, having an usually large number of unclaimed dead bodies, and covered bridges. It's true. Look it up.

All told, we visited nine bridges. Bridges built about 150 years ago. That, my friends, is quite impressive. Some were in better condition than others, but all were uniquely cool.

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Ugh. Finding a Decent Picture of Myself

I did it. I finally caved and put up a picture of myself as my blog's profile picture. Quite courageous, right? Raise your hand if you like looking at pictures of yourself.

*crickets chirping

Ugh. I loathe pictures of myself, but I guess I should be happy that I appear in pictures. Beware of those that don't appear in photographs, like vampires. So actually showing up on film (or digitally) is a real plus. Still, it was really hard for me to find a decent photo of myself.

I could have gone with this beauty:

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Animal Butts Do Not a Nice Photo Make

It was a gorgeous Fall weekend with lots of sunshine and temperatures in the 80s. Totally my kind of weather. Around here, the leaves on the trees are starting to change colors and the colors are really brilliant this year. I wanted to see if I could get some great pictures of the brightly colored leaves, so about 5:30 yesterday evening, I grabbed my camera and my oldest child. We set off on a walk in search of great photos.

About half a mile into our walk, we spotted a deer standing by the side of the road. He stared us down for several seconds and then darted across the lane. My reflexes are so quick, so very lightening quick, that I managed to snap a photo of the deer. 

Okay. Three quarters of the deer. The, ahem, rear three quarters of the deer.

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She's a Real Beaut, Clark.

Last night I was talking to my husband about how tired I've been lately. My fatigue has nothing to do with my physical health and everything to do with Wilford Brimley, the actor and diabetic testing supplies guy. 

I've never been one to have recurring dreams. Until this week. I've been having the same nightmare every night in which Wilford Brimley is trying to choke me. No, I'm not making this up. The choking scenario occurs every night in my dream and it's starting to really get to me. I'm sure that Wilford Brimley is a lovely person, but in this dream he turns on me. Right in front of the fireplace in his classic diabetic testing supplies commercial. One minute he's telling me how my diabetic testing supplies may be covered by Medicare and the next minute his hand shoots up to grab me in a Darth Vader death grip. It is seriously messing with my REM cycles, man. 

My husband, always the solution hunter and problem solver, told me to sleep in this morning. I really appreciated his offer, but I declined. And I'm glad I declined because look at the sunrise that I would have missed this morning:

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Three Honorable Mentions

Over the course of the past few weeks, I've been giving you a list of my Top Five Favorite John Hughes Movies … Plus Three Honorable Mentions. To recap, My Five Favorite John Hughes Movies are:

16 Candles
Breakfast Club
Vacation
Uncle Buck
Ferris Beuller's Day Off

Have no fear, there are still plenty of fabulous movies from which to choose Three Honorable Mentions. Hmm … what movies are missing from the list? What could possibly make up the Three Honorable Mentions?

Drillbit Taylor? No. Not even close.

Baby's Day Out? Um … no.

Home Alone 3? Puh-leeze.

Here are the Three Honorable Mentions - and I heart them. I really do.

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Revenge of the Hats

Remember the hats? The rockingly awesome, seemingly benign flea market hats?

Yeah, those hats.

I'm kinda regretting the purchase of these lovelies at Sunday's flea market. Although they are stunningly beautiful, there is one problem with the hats.


They shed.
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Haggling Like a Pro

The first Sunday of every month is the local flea market. Generally, I avoid the flea market. You have to haggle at flea markets and I hate to haggle. Almost as much as I hate cleaning the bathrooms.

My youngest daughter loves to haggle with people. She's pretty good at it, too. Either she's good at it or people think it's hilarious that a nine year old tries to haggle with them so she gets a good price. Whether she's a decent negotiator or merely amusing, it's a plus to have her in my corner at the flea market.

Normally my husband takes her to the flea market and they have a terrific time, but he was traveling this weekend, so I said I'd take her. I wanted to see what the big woo was. And I wanted to see my daughter in action. And I wanted to see if some fool was selling something I needed. Like a manual typewriter or a Madonna 'Crazy For You' 45.

*Side note: Found both a manual typewriter and a 'Crazy For You' 45. Both were priced at three bucks. Didn't buy either one. My crack negotiator said she could get them for a better price at the antiques store downtown. I believe her. She knows her stuff.

About halfway through the booths, I stopped to tie my shoe and looked up to find something wonderful. Amazing, really. Something I felt I needed to own. A pair of mounted animal horns.
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